Sweet Poison
by Curious Nightingale
Summary: "How odd it is, for a demon to need the comfort of an angel..." At the waters edge, the demons within Cesare conspire to seduce Chiaro - but just until the winter sun rises again. Yaoi with mild sex references. ChiaroxCesare . Completely reworked, Chapter 3 "Bitter Medicine" up
1. Lilac

_I'm currently reworking this but it shouldn't take me too long to do. It's actually fairly fun to do and usually I don't like editing much. Much as back a couple of years ago, I've always found Cesare Borgia an extremely beautifully written, if not troubled, character and has inspired me a lot. There is some sexual content, but I decided to not overdo it here._

_A huge thanks to Hyarou, Syuuk, KawaiiGurl 101, HikariNoTenshi-san, Evil Pixies are Yummy, MeowMeowMart and Sychronergy for the reviews. I actually wasn't looking to disappear off as I had a few ideas for this I'm trying to now remember. Hopefully if I can't I'll come up with something good, and until them I am trying to make this...somewhat easier to read. I think my writing has improved in a couple of years at least. I am a "wordy" type of person apparently, I was never sure how to take that.  
_

_Of course I own nothing...blah blah blah..._

* * *

_**Lilac**_

For Chiaro, the colour red had come to mean many things.

At this moment, he was reaching for discarded crimson vestments that were tangled upon the branches of a leafless tree on a winter's night, his mind lingering as he stood close to that lake. Thoughts of Cesare Borgia would amount to the various shades of red; of passion, beauty, fury and above all an unquenchable ambition. Vermillion, scarlet and ruby spilled together into an unimaginable desire; of blood and violence, yet something purer than simply murder. As his eyes cast over the figure in the lake, bathed under a silvery caress of moonlight, he knew those shades were all true. All the same, they shouldn't be associated with a supposedly pious man of God.

His fingers fell over the softness of those velveteen robes, and the golden crucifix swinging innocently by their side. It was as if that slim, black leather mask he wore slipped slightly. Ahead of him the surface of the water rippled, its lone swimmer gazing back from the chill of wind and so Chiaro paused nervously. The vestments in his hand were still warm, and he was slightly relieved as he wondered how much Cesare's frail body could fare in the cold winter's night. He inched forward, his fear concealed as his eyes fixed on the slim, and naked, torso of the other man.

"Cesare! Please get out of there – you'll catch your death..." he called out urgently. His tone was both soft yet carried over the icy wind. Impossibly long raven tresses flicked back over a soft, cream toned shoulder as the cardinal met his eye. For a moment, the piercing golden eyes faded back to warm lilac. A surprisingly serene, gentle smile he had not seen so long. The assassin felt himself blush, the air pricking and deceptively warm for just a moment, as that delicate, radiant man drew closer to the shore.

"Death is always looking to catch me, that's my curse," Cesare's hands reached up, cupped hands opening to allow water to splash down. It fell like the falling tears of heaven, splintering in the light and back down into those cerulean depths around him "I need to calm these demons inside me, and without you this is the only way to cleanse them. To stop them burning the life from me."

"I'm here now so please come back..." the assassin had untied his left boot, and was in the process of kicking off the second as slim fingers curled around his wrist; a weak grip not portraying any of the strength the man's body held. He had not even heard Cesare leaving the lake. He paused, refusing his instinct to pull away and instead pulled the other man closer, feeling as if his icy body would freeze his heart itself. "Look what you did, you're shaking..."

"Did you know that every time I look at you, that light blinds me," Cesare's voice contained all the surprise of one who expected salvation to have been lost to him long ago such reasons were what caused Chiaro to save him from suicide and promise to guard him in the first place. Heatless fingers touched over that mark he wore before caressing his cheek, as though he could absorb that glow and save himself. The look of building torment and exhaustion building in those lilac eyes was unbearable. "After all this time, I can be in agony and feel as if my soul is being torn apart, yet that vanishes when you hold me. How strange it is, for a demon to need the comfort of an angel."

"You're far from a demon, but as you said I'm here now..." Chiaro's words were panicked, just like they were that certain, fateful day. So close to the Vatican, and he had to wonder if this was the first or latest time the cardinal had ill-advisedly taken to the winter chilled waters. It made sense the demons would tempt him to do it, and he would seek to purify his weakening body from them. Just as he said he would protect him from them; the mere parasites seeking to control what they had been promised. "I need to keep you warm; you'll catch your death like this..."

The masked man's bare feet slipped against the muddy bank as he reached out to retrieve the scarlet robes, the whispering air whipping violently under his open shirt and bare chest as he did. He carefully pulled Cesare to him, wrapping him in crimson before pulling him into his arms. As he felt that shaking heartbeat against him he couldn't help but think how inappropriate this was; and what would happen if they were caught. Cesare's eyes slowly looked up into his, the fatigued look of someone constantly fighting for possession of his own body, and didn't resist as the two men sank to the ground together. He cradled the man into his shoulder as he stroked the soaking hair away from his neck. How long and thick his hair was now; dark and seductive, even if he shouldn't have such thoughts.

It was frightening really, seeing him like this and not seeing the strength and intelligence hidden behind those eyes. If Chiaro knew not of demons sustaining that body he'd think the cardinal's health was failing him. Neither of them knew just how much strength had been consumed from him over the years; perhaps the assassin was to blame. On the darkest of nights he wondered if he had in fact denied him of a merciful death.

"...You need to take your clothes off," he heard Cesare tell him gently, looking up from their embrace as the blonde assassin nervously shook his head. "You chased those demons away, they left me so cold...and now I need your heat, your body...help me..."

Chiaro unfortunately missed the conniving, subtle grin blossoming over the angelic face of the other man. He nodded, tentatively removing his mask to look down. It was as though a dark light, possessive in nature, reached out to grip at him. Breathless and enchanted it was as if a deathly grip caressed his very soul and stopped him pulling away. He reached out, drawing Cesare close as his lips brushed over the other man's in a chaste and tender kiss. Those lilac eyes closed, and he kissed again softly at the raven haired man's eyelids.

He obliged to Cesare's request, even if he was unsure why. He started to remove his white shirt, startled as surprisingly agile hands reached to help him make quick work of the rest of his close. A hated gaze was searching him, and embarrassed he drew the man close to him, his hand seemingly tracing the soft skin of his pale chest of its own accord. His mind protested as his heart quickened and his body grew aroused, his desire fixed on that warming body within his lightly muscled arms.

"I must be such a bother to you, and to your life," he heard whispers against him. He reached out, cupping Cesare's chin delicately as he spoke those words and shook his head. He gripped his hand, trying to ignore how his body felt with the other man pressed against him. "I rely on you with more than my life, and it seems not even a day can pass without you saving me. It seems destiny forced us together; if you hadn't saved my life, your destiny would still be your own..."

Chiaro nodded almost dumbly, pushing his thoughts that this shouldn't be happening. But then it was his fault, it was because of him that beautiful man's life was still wracked with agony and darkness. He gritted his teeth, his face pressing into the Cardinal's damp hair and tried to memorise its scent. His soul ached, knowing even now the other man must wish he was dead; he was damned, his own father having bartered away the very life he clung to. Chiaro told himself his pain was nothing in comparison, and all he could do now was keep him alive.

"So do you regret it?" Cesare continued quietly, reading his eyes as if he could read his mind. He shook his head, fixed by those beautiful lilac hands and his fingers stroking his porcelain face. No, he couldn't, there was nothing cruel or malicious in that man. It was just the black grip cursing his heart, he knew that. a cold hand reached up, caressing the assassin's jaw as if mimicking him and he reached to hold it there. "Rather – do you regret being with me?"

Chiaro reached down, claiming those silken lips in another feather-soft kiss. "Of course not, not for one moment. I'd rather die than be from your side."

"Take me..."

Chiaro's eyes widened and he drew back, the kiss becoming slightly less chaste after the ecstasy of a fevered tongue swept over his own. He noticed a shadow cross behind those eyes, a golden and glittering magnificence tainting them momentarily before dissipating. The grip upon his heart said to ignore it, and instead look into the innocent face of the one he had come to cherish dearly. "T-take you where?"

"Wherever you like...I'll give you my body until the sun rises," with a shaking breath, Cesare leaned in to gently kiss his neck. Chiaro ignored his instincts to move away, even if this felt like a costly offer. "They say the best way to stop a fever is to burn it from someone; any physician will tell you that. You don't want to make me sick, do you?"

"I..."

His protest died in his throat as he watched those hands reach up to lose themselves in his soft blonde hair. Again he was trapped by that man's enrapturing beauty and how powerless he felt; vulnerable and helpless and again under Cesare's control. It was as if he was a siren of legend, and he was called by a beautiful yet silent song of something more sinister from within that perfect body. Perhaps he was the same as a fated sailor about to be pierced upon the rocks, under the thrall of a dark plea and unable to break away. He leaned closer.

"Only you can make my pain go away," Cesare reminded him. "My body needs you as does my soul...what would you do to save that..."

The assassin's mind drew blank, no longer protesting as he lay the other man down. Heat built within him, beading on his skin in that cold and fleeting night as the sun still refused to rise. Chiaro felt dizzy, intoxicated even, as his hands reached out to knead softly at the other man. Not a single thought entered his mind as his lips drew over Cesare's neck, the weak body under his arching slightly in protest as he bit down. His teeth cut and bruised his throat more harshly than he would otherwise dare, but then he would never dare defile him to start with. Lost within the control of demons that guilt faded, subsiding even before its emotion crossed his mind. His calloused hands, keened from so many years of swordplay, just sought to caress that delicate body for the rest of his life. To tear it and make it belong to only him. Cesare's tired body grew rigid and resisted, and he traced those pale arms before gripping them and forcing them down. His mind fell to the prospect of only taking the possessed man again and again, until those lilac eyes never again saw the world that pained him so much.

As he flattened the scarlet vestments for the both of them, Chiaro knew it was hardly the first time he had made love. However it would be the first time he would with a man and definitely not with one burning with fever and entered forcefully. His hands gripped painfully onto Cesare's shoulders as his body commanded him too, his nails scraping scars down his soft skin and the other man's body seemed to protest against his force. His mind told him it was wrong, a quiet fear of breaking a virgin in the heat of his own selfish passion. He didn't want to hurt him, but his body was contorting in its pleasure and he shuddered deeply, reaching down to cover Cesare's mouth as if to stop him screaming.

As the final, deepest and most penetrating arching of his body left him, Chiaro could hear the chirp of birdsong once again. In the next moment he collapsed at the side of his trembling lover, looking at a trickle of pearly-white fluid as it mixed with a tone of virginal blood on the dirty below them. The guilt struck him, daring to glance at Cesare who simply remained as he was and stared blankly into the sighing waves. He reached out to stroke the thick dark waves of his hair, enveloping his freezing body against his passion-warm flesh and worried how much of the Cardinal's dwindling energy had been spent. He smiled, even if he didn't feel like smiling, his body for a moment loving how frail and tired he looked even if that seemed...warped, somehow. "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, never forget that..."

"I hope I don't get sick," Cesare said distractedly, but leaned into his chest as if to close off what little space remained between them. His eyes opened slightly, a delicate purple of ambition watching the golden spires of the Vatican across that freezing lake. "I can't do a whole lot if I'm stuck ill in bed..."

Chiaro nodded, feeling pained suddenly and drew him into his arms again. He reached out, a hand drawing his hair back, thick with the aroma of water and pressed his lips to his forehead. "...You're really burning up; we should get you to bed..."

"I think that's the best thing to do," Cesare said weakly, and when Chiaro looked away he gave another hidden smile to himself, as if he had finally achieved a long sought after goal. The blonde assassin was oblivious to it as he carefully, albeit shakily, tucked him within the blood and mud strewn vestments and took to pulling on his clothes. He was clumsily lacing his boots when he noticed that same trickle of blood again, horrified that his actions had led to such a loss of innocence.

Even if Chiaro wasn't really cold anymore he couldn't stop shivering. Cesare he knew was a lot more sheltered than him, both protected and neglected in equal measures, and he knew he'd need to be around more to stop him taking to those frozen waters. Silently he swept the Cardinal into his arms in a shower of raven hair, receiving no resistance even though he expected it. It was alarming how light he was growing, weaker, and he again thought it was a symptom of that terrible curse. A slim hand reached round the blonde man's neck and he looked down at him. "Try to sleep on the way back of you can. You're never sick for long so just be careful for a while. Try not to get worked up over anything in the meantime."

"Usually I wouldn't, but of course it's not like I've ever been ravished with a fever before. You could have gentle with me," Cesare replied softly. The assassin's eyes looked over the dark bruising mottling his milky skin and widened. A golden glint in the other man's eyes appeared and gave a playful smile, those lips anything but comforting and reassuring. He looked away; aware hurting Cesare's body hurt him just as much, and watched the Cardinal reach for his glittering crucifix with a trembling hand. "But first I need you to do something for me."

Cesare was holding the chain and its depiction of their fallen saviour tightly to him, seemingly oblivious now to his bruised body and the illness burning within him. Chiaro nodded, his lips pressing their apology to his fevered forehead. His pale skin showed little sign of the fever aside from its heat, but then he hardly looked like he was playing a host to demons either. "Anything."

"I'm going to need new vestments I think," he announced, gesturing to those he was wrapped in, amidst their stains and evidence of his lost virginity. The assassin stiffened slightly, but nodded. "I don't think a man of the cloth should be seen like this, do you?"

"No but..." Chiaro paused, looking down into the perfect, tired features and felt guilty for disturbing him. Ignoring that thought he continued. "But what should I say?"

"About what?" Cesare dissolved into a fit of dry choking coughs before drawing back, looking at the lines of red wet upon his fingers as he drew back with interest. He pondered, ignoring the fear in Chiaro's face. "Oh, the blood? I'm not sure, lying to the Pope is a sin, but as he's my father just say what you think makes sense. You'll be able to make up an excuse for defiling his child's body – assassins are good at being deceptive I'm told..."

"...Just sleep, you need to rest now," Chiaro said blankly, feeling stricken and remaining completely skill. He still felt himself drawing the man closer into his arms, protectively as those lilac eyes closed. For a moment a boiling anger embedded itself within him at those sharp words; at hollow and used he felt. However he felt looking down into those deceptively angelic features made the guilt rise again. He was the demonic figure stealing and damaging something beautiful, and the thought made his eyes sting. He stroked again through his dark hair, running it through his fingers for the sake of watching it fall. It was more rare and precious than black gold, and he didn't deserve any of this. Yet at the same time he was as deserving and cruel as the frozen winter sun rising ahead of them.

There was a reason, certainly, for why Cesare was like this. Chiaro was the light and warmth in his painful and cruel life, and even now it seemed he was still hurting him. The assassin silently told himself he was what protected the cardinal's ebbing humanity, but at the same time wondered if his body and mind would eventually fall deeper into illness and madness. He gave one last glance to the icy waters, his tear blurred eyes fixed between them and the deep scarlet of the vestments

In that moment Chiaro felt more than ever as if he could name the various shades of red that depicted anything but piety, and then felt he could name every shade of blue in the lake's sorrowful depths. As the two flooded together they would of course make a delicate flood of purple; the red passion and blue sorrow making something new. Such things could never end in purity or sanity, could they? Yet it was that exact colour he knew was carried in Cesare's eyes when the demons weren't affecting him. Those eyes were forever locked in their cruelty and vulnerability, colliding between the highest ingenuity and the deepest despair. In thought he dared himself to reach down to steal a secret kiss from the other man before walking away from the lake and towards the towering Vatican.


	2. Impure Morning

_**Impure Morning**_

The morning outside of Cesare's window was something indeed. Under the pale gold tone of the winter mornings first light, a thin veil of frost clung to the grass as if reluctant to leave it. The layer of icy green reached that lake, and it had been a view he had been lost in many times. The blazing sun was brilliant in the cloudless sky, a false comfort that brought no heat to the world. The day was beautiful, but it remained as cold and barren as his body felt.

He lay back, rubbing at his scalding forehead. Like the outside world, the contents of his room wouldn't change just if he wished them to. It was the same predictable scene of flickering candlelight, dark wood furniture and deep, passion red blankets. How ironic, for someone in his position. Even in the morning the shadows prevailed, mostly just out of the corner of his eyes but their threatening grip always frightened that sill human part of him.

Despite everything after all, Cesare still remembered what it was like to be human, after all. He had once been an innocent child terrified of the dark. After a while he just came to enjoy the irony of a wintery, impure morning and watching where the shadows lingered in the corners. That fleeting warmth had long been absent from his life, but he wanted to remember who he was and how far he had come to salvage that. Warmth and light never lasted forever anyway; and in turn the gathering frost and enduring winter would eventually be conquered by the sun. It was a pointless cycle.

Eventually however, both that frost and those shadows would grip hold of him and take him over. At moments throughout the years he felt he would welcome that, for it would be quite wonderful to see the world at its most terrible. For now though he couldn't die, and it wasn't time for such things. If he was careful it would even be Cesare surrendering on his own terms when the end came. He really wanted to be when he had personally relished in the cold art of war.

The door to his rooms creaked open, and whilst trying to compose himself he felt himself dissolve into coughing again. He brushed dark hair from his eyes as he watched His Holiness the Pope enter the room, and accompanied by Volpe's ever watching eye. His father, of course, would be neither worried nor concerned for his health. No, he was more resentful that his son was still alive, and the young cardinal knew better than pretend he wasn't respectful. Instead he gave him an overly sunny smile, which seemed a little like the false one overhead.

"Your Holiness..." Cesare's voice wavered, eyes falling as he bowed in a usual play of respect. He was already out of bed, falling to his knees and his smirk hidden by his hair as he kissed the large ring on the Pope's suspicious hand, how he must seem, that wretched devil-child who had been sold so easily and should rightfully be dead already. "I'm honoured you're here."

The same right hand of God who had sold Cesare's soul to the devil for power looked back with a mask that barely concealed his contempt and revulsion. He was even ignoring Volpe's ill placed murmur that he shouldn't be out of bed.

Father and son, however, both knew the warped power of silence. Every word was a piece of a chess board, needing to be uttered and placed at the right time and for greatest effect. He was his father's son, and that was perhaps why he was still alive.

"I heard that you were down by that lake again," the old man replied. Pope Alexander, Rodrigo Borgia, after all knew just what venomous rumours and scandals could lead to. Cesare just gave him an innocent smile, and ignored Volpe's eyes which never left him. "It's dangerous, when you go swimming in it. We wouldn't want you to catch your death, would we?"

"I'm sorry to worry you, but it remains a brilliant way to burn out a fever, your Holiness," he said sweetly.

The Pope just had the eyes of a predator who wanted nothing more than to strike its prey, "It doesn't seem to have worked."

"It did, I no longer feel my mind burning," he moved to stand, his balance failing and felt Volpe catch him. His father didn't move, and he didn't expect him to. "But I don't think my illness is what interests you, you sold this body to hell long ago."

He was flashed a dangerous look, but Rodrigo continued regardless. "It's taking longer than I thought, but never matter. From what I heard you were injured...in a very specific way. Who lay with you?"

Volpe's surprisingly strong hands kept it so he could keep level with that accusing gaze. Ah, how amusing it was at how the words of a man of God to talk of such things, in the act he had never given into such acts himself. "I have to wonder if everyone in the Vatican knows what that type of thing looks like. But then, would a true Pope know what that type of blood meant?"

"It doesn't matter; people would talk a lot about a cardinal being defiled in such a way..."

"And we wouldn't want them to talk, would we?" Cesare coughed again, amazed at how potent the demons were letting this sickness grow. He couldn't sound as threatening as he wanted to like this. "It would be unseemly, especially if it was your own son doing such things. They'd want to know why I did such a thing and blame you, and his Holiness must be chaste...pure. If you can make a mistake making me a cardinal, they might even conclude you weren't ordained by God...but by the Devil himself..."

A hand reached up to strike him but Volpe stood between them, and Rodrigo dropped his arm. Cesare knew he still wore that innocent expression, and his father wouldn't take his chances harming him. "So it would seem, but know this. Taking a woman is one thing, that doesn't leave any marks. But being taken by a man is...just dispose of the evidence and don't let yourself be seen. Stay away from the lake, or who knows...you might even suffer an unfortunate accident."

"My life is one set of unfortunate accidents, one more just makes things interesting," his father drew back to the door, the door slamming as the purity of that white mantle faded from sight. He felt Volpe push him gently back onto the bed, his strong hands steadying him as once again his body gave in to that awful coughing.

Hollow as his body was, Cesare had always counted on the fact his body was immune to such trivial things as a fever. He just thought the demons within him found some benefit in him being weakened like this. If he suffered, they would benefit from it, and he was past anything like that surprising him. His thoughts fell to Chiaro, him relying on that warmth and strength, but he was not there. Even if swimming did nothing for a fever, it cured that assassin's absence from his side.

"I doubt his Holiness will say anything," Volpe said quietly, watching as Cesare drew a blood stained hand away from his lips. Concern flashed in those pale eyes, and he watched the man fuss over cleaning it.

"No, admitting he made a mistake trusting me wouldn't be something he'd do. It would be like him admitting to fathering bastards...it's unseemly."

As Volpe pushed Cesare back, he knew that man was looking over his body, such impure thoughts evident from the look in his eye. His hand lingered on his chest for one thing, holding him there and ignored his laboured breathing. He simply looked away, pretending to be concerned with outside of his window before the other man cleared his throat. "And what of Chiaro? He was with you, correct?"

Lilac eyes smiled at him. "If his Holiness said I am still pure, I can't talk about such things can I?"

"...Very well..." a darkness crossed Volpe's face, something that looked like either disappointment or jealously and Cesare pretended not to notice it. Eventually he left, his footsteps growing faint as the cardinal looked back to those frosted blades of emerald grass outside. His body was forcing him to sleep yet again. "Feel better soon, then, your Grace."

* * *

Countless hours of precious time were lost as Cesare continued to fell in and out of consciousness; and the day seemed to pass him by in a mere moment. When he finally woke it seemed the night was there to greet him. He preferred that really, it meant there wouldn't be so many people about and he would be pleased to do as he wanted, provided he was careful where he went. He dressed into clean set of vestments and left his room without looking back.

He passed through an endless hallway, looking through the long line of windows into the diamond and velvet expanse that was the night sky. It was almost as if the grounds were frozen, coated in ice and he stared at the sight. It was breathtaking, even for someone like him. He lifted his sore body to sit in one of the countless large, marble lined sills to look out at it. Scattered amongst the wintery scene, a flurry of white snowdrops were already in bloom, and with eyes half closed he allowed his forehead to press against the glass to watch his breath fog against it.

"I think you're not supposed to be wandering around like this," he turned to the whispering of a masked man, breaking him out of thought. He yawned, looking back to watch Chiaro. "Especially alone, they won't like that after last night."

"The demons might still have plans for me...who knows," he replied in a hushed voice, leaning in and allowing the tip of his tongue to run over the assassin's lips. The other man just stared back as if transfixed before his faced flushed bright red. How amusing... "I've been resting, and with you with me I'd have recovered sooner. It just seems you're the only thing that satisfies me – but then you know that."

"I..." nervously the man raked a hand through his blonde hair before looking away. Cesare could only guess the rumours that had cascaded the light strewn hallways when he had been brought back there. He wished he had been awake to see it. "You know I promised to protect you all those years ago. But last night I...couldn't stop myself. It will never happen again."

"I'm hurt; you make it sound like you regret it..."

He felt Chiaro reach out; a cool hand linking with his own yet the other man seemed almost puzzled by his own actions. Within a moment the blonde was up on the windowsill by his side, and Cesare had leaned into his shoulder. He felt a cautious hand stroke through his long dark hair, as if knowing there would always be something. And he would be right; the Cardinal knew better than not to have an agenda he wouldn't share with his protector.

It seemed behind their masks, figurative or literal, the one he called his guardian angel would watch the night overhead with someone like him. Nothing more than a shell of a man prey to so many demons. Both assassin and cardinal remained silent until Chiaro sighed slightly. "This just...it isn't right. It feels strange to me."

""How interesting. You take something from me, and then tire of me?" he looked up into the other man's eyes, watching him look away and shake his head. But he drew Cesare's head back in to lie against his shoulder. "I don't think it's strange, there's more to it and a lot more between his. After so long maybe I just became a sweet poison forever destined to run through you..."

Chiaro seemed to surrender again, leaning in to hiss his hair before leaning in to kiss him properly. It seemed the previous night really had affected him. Gold glittered in Cesare's eyes, but the other man didn't notice as he kissed him once more before drawing away.

"Can you tell me what's happening with your father?" he asked finally as the assassin's slender fingers circled against his neck, even if he seemed scared to touch him. "Everyone was so quiet and polite, but they seemed to know something happened. They wouldn't even let me near you, they suspect me don't they."

Cesare laughed slightly, amazed at how convincingly innocent and sweet his voice remained after everything. "Of course my father would know the signs of such a deed. He doesn't like any scandal he can't benefit from, and he likes it less if it involves me and could hurt him."

"I am just...so sorry," Chiaro continued to stroke over his cheek, as if knowing exactly what he had done. It was a great sin after all, touching one who served God in such a way. It just seemed to matter little if under appearances Cesare was more marked by the devil himself. But it was a reminder, and an inescapable one.

"Your heart is beating too fast to make me think you regret our precious, loving hours when you had me last night," their eyes met, Cesare holding him in a heated yet cold gaze. He leaned up to kiss the blonde's throat, watching him shiver yet moaned and leaned into him. The temptation was there, intoxicating, and more lustful to be any simple poison. "I know what you did to me...I wanted it as much as you did."

The assassin didn't answer, instead watching his hands trace down the Cardinal's arms as if he was a puppet and not doing such a thing himself. And he wasn't. Just as in the next moment he wasn't the one reaching up those deep, sinfully red robes to run a guilty hand over his thigh before sighing and leaning in. A confused look ran over his masked face, never quite knowing how much was desire and how much he was controlled; but wasn't that what made it fun? "I thought you might have been sent away from the Vatican after something like that. You'd want that, wouldn't you?"

"If my getting free from this prison was done simply by you deflowering me, I'd have been out of here a long time ago," he watched anger build in the other man's eyes, drawing his hand back. "it would be a fun way to get my freedom back, but his Excellency doesn't think as I was the one assaulted I was breaking my vows. But then we could try again..."

In a sudden moment, Chiaro had Cesare by the throat, forcing his head to collide with the window. The sudden violence chimed in the empty hallways and was soon forgotten, his gloved hands not quite willing to strange him. The dark haired man wasn't afraid, but perhaps he was too over-confident his saviour would never hurt him. The assassin composed himself, but a deep anger clung to his voice. "Is that all I am to you, a game you play to get what you want. You'll have me...make love to you, to keep me with you and to get you out of here. It wasn't about us, was it? Am I anything but a toy for you to play with?"

"Last night you were the one playing with me...not the other way round. And you weren't exactly playing nicely," he replied silkily before pushing his hand away. The coughing returned in the next moment, drops of red appearing on his hand as he reached up to stop himself. He reached in, sharing the metallic, sickly taste with Chiaro in a kiss and he didn't move away as he did. "You can surely see that God himself sees a lot of humour in this twisted world. Why else would you be the one to save me. But without you I..."

Anger was gripping Chiaro's teeth together a moment ago, but between seeing the blood and experiencing the kiss it faded. So much was between them, and maybe that assassin really did crave the deception and warmth Cesare offered him. Perhaps he just wanted to heal him; the blonde closed his eyes as if foolishly wishing the words weren't so inviting and he wasn't affected by the sweet poison they offered. "If they think I did that to you, is it the best idea?"

"They'll think more of it if you act like its true and avoid me," Cesare gave him a charming smile. The masked man nodded, playing into his hands as he descended from the window sill and paused to help him down. He wrapped an arm round his waist as they retreated back to his room. "You'd expect people not to lie or spread rumours or lie in a place of God. But in the end, if you leave you'll just be hurting me...us..."

For now, the masked man simply nodded and said nothing. But in the end it didn't matter that much if he believed him or not; for now at least they were together.


	3. Bitter Medicine

_When I wrote this, there was a lot of snow, hence there is also snow here. If anyone is from England you'll get it, as this country is sort of Rainsville most of the time. So to actually have snow is one thing, but snow in late March is just crazy._

_And yeah...I've been sitting on a pre-emptive draft for this for I think three years. Apologies to anyone waiting that long, but such is life. Anyone that wasn't waiting well...good...I think... Thanks again for all the favourites, followers and reviewers, it means a lot and I do feel bad for running off. _

_Enjoy~_

* * *

_**Bitter Medicine**_

Chiaro kept his low bow to the Pope for as long as he could. Unwavering, he ensured the only sight he could see was the hem of those pure white robes. In that night time-chapel he had been alone with his Holiness. The two men remained, amidst the glow of candlelight and the depictions of their saviour, and it was amazing how quiet such a place could be. He waited, and after several minutes he rose, both gracefully and respectfully, even if it seemed a little strange to do so.

"Then Did you see who it was?"Rodrigo asked him. The assassin knew he likely didn't care that much.

The blonde, masked man who dared not wear a mask in such a place gave a long, convincing pause before shaking his head. "No, your Holiness, I'm afraid not. By the time I arrived whoever hurt him had fled. And your son was..." he paused, and despite everything and that man's nefarious acts, he was still the Pope. And he didn't care for the implication of lying to such a figure, and less so in a chapel. Even if he was swathed in lies and politics, the masked man liked to be honest.

"So it was like that you say? Very well then," he was taken at his word it seemed; was he that good a liar? Maybe it just seemed Chiaro wouldn't do such an act himself; he certainly wouldn't willingly. Or, disturbingly, maybe Cesare's scheming ways were rubbing off on him.

"I do know that it's my place to keep him out of trouble," he said, even if Rodrigo wouldn't care for the son he had sold long ago. "I'm meant to protect him, and stop anyone from doing anything to hurt him. So the blame is mine, and I'll repent for letting anyone hurt him like that. Especially now with his health since then I..."

"Enough..." the man waved an impatient hand in his face. More than likely, the twilight meeting was solely to hide such an embarrassing meeting. Those lovely halls however would conceal their secrets well. "I believe you, but if his health fails, it fails. We can but just pray for him."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, your Holiness..." Chiaro swept himself into another polite bow. As Cesare's father, the other man more than likely didn't want to make a big deal over the events and play into his son's hands. The assassin just chose to keep himself away from their troubled relationship, or therefore lack of.

He left the chapel, travelling quietly through the blur of high arches in their white and golden splendour. Outside the frost was painting the world with its chilling gleam, and it looked as if it would snow soon. Every now and then the fires of the hallway lit them up in painted golden strokes, and his mind took to wondering just how long he had been away. He had not returned here for Cesare longer than he had thought, and maybe it seemed he had deserted him. A surprising pang of guilt knotted his stomach over such things.

"So from that it seems many of the cardinals were wrong about you," a quiet voice indicated the assassin had been followed. Volpe drew up behind him as he stopped in his tracks, the pale man leaning in an archway. He looked like a ghost, really, or failing that exhausted. Fatigue was bruised in circles around the other man's eyes, and Chiaro doubted he had slept much. He could guess why that was, too. "I'm a little surprised, you know. I was so sure that you were guilty, but his Holiness...such a righteous man is never wrong now, is he? You two might even have a thing or two in common."

Chiaro glared slightly, but knew better than to react to such a comment. "Are you following me?"

"Why would I? I was on my way to pray for a friend. A friend dear to me who has been very ill," Volpe replied smoothly. "But his Grace was waiting for you for months this time. He stayed away from the lake for as long as he could, and by the end even I couldn't stop him wanting to cleanse himself. Strangely though, you can help him so easily – imagine what would happen if you stayed with him."

"You know I would never wish any harm to come to him," still, it just consolidated his feeling that it was his fault. Chiaro at times wasn't sure which ran deeper; his feelings of guilt for how he unintentionally treated Cesare, or his anger at how Cesare used and manipulated him.

Volpe raised a light gold eyebrow. "So then you'd have sex with him without hurting him? Or were you talking about your abandoning him?"

Chiaro stopped quickly for the sake of saying what he knew he'd regret. He drew away, footsteps softly echoing in the weighted silence between the two men. He couldn't trust that man not to twist anything he said, and worse it was what he was already thinking.

But then they both knew Cesare wasn't that fragile to break over a few months absence. At least that's what he had wanted to think before seeing the state he was in. Given his circumstances it was possible the vestige of humanity was splintering and breaking, and would someday be lost. Chiaro just had the ominous responsibly of that being somewhat under his control. But it was problematic; whenever that gleam of gold overtook those lilac eyes, he was no longer himself. He was helpless, and it unsettled him, the things he was made to do for the sake of protecting a friend.

His thoughts were broken by Volpe's silvery laugh. "Regardless, I was just saying it seems you're the only thing that helps him. I really think he's deluded enough on some days to think someone like you is an angel."

"For his sake, if he thinks I am one, I'd have to act as one," he replied flippantly. He had sinned, both in the carnal desires of the flesh – and lain with another man at that – as well as the copious lives that stained his hands red. He walked a path no angel or being of God would tread. Such things were absurd to him. "But I'm back for now, and I'll be his strength. And please stop following me."

"I wasn't following you. But you chase those demons away...so I keep worrying about the affect you have on him."

"Are you really so worried I'll break his heart?"

"I know that his heart is broken, over and over, every time you leave. Even if he will never admit it," the pale man said. And the assassin knew Volpe would feel that way. "Then think about everything else his Grace has to go through, what you're doing is cruel. I believe one day you'll leave, and when you don't come back he'll wither. And you'll find someone else."

"I give him what you can't anyway..." Chiaro walked away, feeling those tired eyes on his retreated back. Volpe didn't follow of course. He had always wondered how deep that man's unrequainted love for Cesare ran. All Chiaro could guess was it was perhaps as deep and unrelenting as Cesare's unwanted feelings for him were.

* * *

Right now Cesare felt very much like a prisoner; and this time in both mind and body. He had left those behind who stopped him being alone, who were so worried for his health and insisted he went back to rest. Cursing them silently he had closed the door, leaning his scalding forehead on the cool dark wood. More than likely they were praying to the God absent from his life for his recovery; which had a rather dark irony. It seemed more of an inconvenience to have so many people worrying for him, especially with his plans. Thus he chose to leave such sentiments on the other side of that door, as it's the only place where he was allowed to be alone right now.

Such things were inevitable, really. Any vast blossoming of rumour concerning his failing health took precedence over and stemmed any lingering, idle gossip concerning his antics by the lake. It couldn't be helped really, but it was tiring and the last thing he wanted was to be pitied or thought to be weak. He blocked such thoughts from his mind; one way or another he would recover from this. He took to lighting the scattering of candles, steadily lighting the room with his increasingly shaky hand. The shadows were slowly receding, and out of the corner of his eye he curiously watched his own reflection brighten slowly in the windows behind him.

There he was; the very image of his fevered self reflected back at him. The shell of the young cardinal's body was consumed by so many things, even if it seemed otherwise. Cesare knew all too well that within him he was withering, and one day he would even cease to be human. His soft smile and bright eyes were just yet to reveal their mark and scars of an existence bought on stolen time. Beyond his beautiful body, he was neither pure nor worthy anymore. But for now it was enough, he thought, as he curiously shrugged off the heavy and sinful scarlet vestments from his slim shoulders. His pale and passion marked body was thrown into sharp relief, the bites and scratches Chiaro had given him. The signs of the rapture and desire marking the end of his virginity, and the souvenirs of a night he barely remembered. In time they would fade, and he doubted he would be able to seduce Chiaro again.

He turned and slipped into a white shirt, and it was then his body once again dissolved into his choking coughs. His very reflection in the windows changed into something else, something weak and pitiful as he collapsed. His hands were reduced to clawing at the bed to steady himself, as if he was some manner of desperate beast. It was so unseemly he couldn't as much as look at himself. It was disgusting as that familiar and metallic taste threatened to spill up into his throat. All the while, all he could do was tell himself the fever would fade. Almost frantically his thoughts fell to Chiaro. And they often did. From their last conversation, he knew the man would rather avoid than help him.

Of course, eventually Chiaro might even pretend that what happened by the lake had never taken place. He would never feel the same way, even if Cesare knew that man was his only true medicine/ it was just a medicine that was increasingly bitter towards him.

His eyes stung and were watering from his fit, and he ran a burning hand over them. He had barely even heard the heavy door open and close, or a blue of white and blonde enter his rooms. He cursed, knowing it was Chiaro and once again he was seeing him like this. Why did that man always have to see him when he was at his weakest?

"...You really are sick, aren't you?" the other man was asking softly, drawing a hand over his damp forehead. Given how their last conversation had gone and the surprised in Chiaro's voice, Cesare would have laughed. He just doubted right now if his body would have been able to handle it.

He felt himself being pushed softly back onto the bed, and didn't resist. He avoided looking into the assassin's eyes, not wanting to see that pitying look and instead stared vacantly past his shoulder. The windows were blurred slightly into their frosted veil, and it seemed the unseasonable chill of snow and the accompanying harsh winds continued unscathed. Snow trickled down in its subtle and intricate patterns against the dark. Such things were uninterrupted as their plan continued to cover the Vatican in white and grey. And all he could do was think how much he longed for his invitingly cool it seemed to his burning body.

He felt Chiaro's weight shift onto the bed and close to his eyes. Finally their eyes met, and as always Cesare couldn't bring himself to look away. He watched the blonde man draw out a slim and elegant silver container from his pocket, opening it and the fragrance of summer and flowers all but poured out as he did; that warmth oddly welcoming. Cesare gave him a curious look, as his proclaimed protector leaned in, stroking a hand softly over Cesare's chin and coaxing him to lean back on the pillows.

"...What are you doing?" he asked, aware of how hoarse and strained his voice was. Chiaro smiled gently, tipping the container before rubbing a light yellow fluid between his fingers. He reached over, lightly running his gentle touch over the other man's aching throat. Cesare closed his eyes, leaning back as tingling warmth flooded over his painful body. He felt the blonde man's thumb lightly circle and massage at his skin, fingers caressing his neck as he inched closer to him.

"This is going to help a fair bit. You've hurt yourself a lot with all that coughing – you can tell from your voice," Chiaro said quietly. He continued to watch him, searching those blue eyes as fatigue and warmth ran though him. It was almost strange to think such a simple thing could have him feeling better.

He gave a soft laugh, and regretted it as he coughed weakly and was given an appraising sort of look. "Hm, is that right? Did you read that from somewhere, then?"

"Actually Lucrezia did. She's been worrying about you too..."

Cesare paused; the way he said that woman's name was...curious. "That would make more sense. Thank you anyway, that helped a lot."

He watched Chiaro draw back, and for a moment assumed that was their moment together, and perhaps even for the man to leave. Instead the blonde man slid a hand slowly over his chest, and then begin to slowly unlace the shirt he had just haphazardly dress himself in. "Not so fast; there's a lot we haven't talked about. Was that you wanting me by the lake? I thought it was you, but you don't seem to remember."

"Oh, you mean the other night? I can't really remember, the events have been so hazy in my mind," he replied smoothly. There was a strange look on Chiaro's face as he continued to pull the shirt away, fingers teasing over him a little too sensually as he explored over Cesare's marked skin. He ran his palms over the marks of passion he had left on the other's body, and again that look of guilt darkened his lovely face. "I don't usually get sick, but this fever has been so bothersome..."

"I'm not your toy anyway," Chiaro muttered, and Cesare raised an eyebrow and watched him. "I mean it; I won't let you use me like that. it's not fair, I want to be with you as I want to, not have you tempt me into...doing such things to you. So...just remember that."

"You don't have to do anything, did it occur to you that you might want to?" he asked.

Chiaro shook his head slowly in disagreement. He had drawn out more of that fragranced balm, giving him a soft look before slowly drawing it over the exposed, pale skin of his chest. He palmed and stroked softly over his skin, looking as confused by his actions as Cesare felt. "This is painful. If I ever did leave you, I don't like to think of how long you'd last, or if you'd..." he trailed off, his eyes misting slightly. He lifted up, flushing but settling himself to sitting at Cesare's waist and pulled the last of his shirt from his body before reaching back in to touch him again.

"You know I'm not that weak..." a golden shadow passed over Cesare's eyes, and Chiaro stared at him. The blonde man leaned in, stroking up his body in a way more befitting seduction than treatment. His fingers ran teasing circles over Cesare's erect nipples, pinching softly at the silky pink skin and moaning as Cesare's body rose in enjoyment beneath him. He continued to rub softly at his skin, leaning in to kiss softly at his neck. "For all this talk about not being a toy, you seem to like playing with my body? I can be your toy instead if you like."

The blonde man moaned, kissing softly over his chest as he continued to caress over it. "...Please don't say things like that."

He gave him a teasing look, watching the blonde man lick softly at a nipple before drawing it almost hungrily into his mouth. He moaned deeply, a hand reaching up to play in his hair and to hold him close to him. "Like what, exactly? Look what you're doing to me right now..."

Chiaro sighed, sucking deeply at him as his other hand continued to pinch at his chest. His face was flushed with what he was doing, as if torn between enjoying how he tasted and the fact this wasn't his desire. Finally he pulled away, Cesare's sensitive skin chilling deliciously in the air as he blew over the assaulted skin. "You know it's not like that."

"Then can you tell me what it's like..." he watched Chiaro shift back up, his hands cupping and softly exploring his body. The assassin's body rubbing against him told him how excited he was. For the sake of seeing that unsettled, confused look in his eyes he shifted up his hips in a deliberate thrust and gave him a teasing smile. The man flushed furiously. "Maybe I should be the one taking you this time, I could mount you hard until you tell me exactly how it's like. I can feel from your body you just want to have me again..."

"...Not in your condition. And not here. And...what am I saying...not at all. Ever again..." Chiaro sounded breathless, watching as Cesare reached up to grip his hands in his. "No, if I ever let you control me I'd never be myself again. I really would be your pawn."

"You've never been my pawn, Chiaro. You are...something else..."

"And what would that be?" Cesare didn't answer him. "What was it like to be taken by a man anyway? By...me? Did you like it? Did I...hurt you, I mean..."

"You were my first and only time, and I don't remember much. If you want to take me again though...not in my current condition. Not in my bed. And next time I want you to be gentle when you seduce me..." Cesare knew full well that would never happen, but the blush on the assassin's face was priceless. Chiaro fell to his side, leaving him feel better in body, at least.

"I...care deeply for you, you know that." Chiaro was saying quietly. He reached up, stroking through the other man's dark hair, and didn't pull away as Cesare's lips brushed over his softly. Despite the slight throbbing in his body however s gentle want for sleep was flooding over him. He leaned into the man's hand, and felt an arm circle his body. "I've been protecting you even if you wanted to take your life, remember? It's been hard, and leaving was the only way I could deal with you...wanting me. Every time I reach out, you want something from me I can't give. It's like you have a knife at your throat, threatening me so you get your way. But you're my friend; I don't want to lose you. I..."

He trailed off, and Cesare was aware he said something else as he slumped deeper into a needed sleep. He just couldn't keep his stinging eyes open anymore, even if he wanted to. It may well be the case Chiaro was realising he couldn't keep his promise of saving him. However Chiaro pulled him into his chest, a hand stroking through his hair as if promising to stay with him. Cesare had no idea how long they lay like that together, but even then he knew he would be gone by when he awoke the following day.

Cesare's fever, however, would also be long gone by then.


End file.
